


[In Which Dinner is Interrupted]

by Exal



Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [9]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Post-Spotpass Paralogues, Pregnancy, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 03:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30149790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exal/pseuds/Exal
Summary: “If we should give the child the name 'Owain,' do you think we might be dooming him to a life of pathos and melodrama?” Postwar, post-marriage, after everything has settled down, this is how Frederick and Lissa decide how to name their announced child.
Relationships: Frederick/Liz | Lissa
Series: 12 Conversations About One Thing [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2133747
Kudos: 2





	[In Which Dinner is Interrupted]

###  **Conversation 9 [In which dinner is interrupted]**

Frederick completely trusted Lissa. She was his wife, his Liege Lady, and his dearest of companions. He knew that Lissa, even in the darkest depths of her mischievousness, would never do anything to purposefully endanger him. And he knew that flying was the most practical method to reach small, out-of-the-way villages.

None of this meant he would _ever_ be comfortable riding Lissa's pegasus. Anywhere.

“Alright, almost there!” shouted Lissa, her hands loose on the reins. “Let's do one! More! Dive!”

“Milady!” screamed Frederick, completely forgetting himself for a second. “Lissa! Are we...not attempting to keep something of a low profile? Surely you'd agree plunging like a meteor through the atmosphere is less than subtle.” Plus, Frederick did not add, there was the definite possibility that Frederick himself would scream if they dove again, further destroying any pretense of subterfuge.

Lissa sighed happily. With a light pull on her reins, Lissa gently circled her pegasus down toward their destination. Frederick was relived, as was his stomach.

The couple was headed for a small house on the very edge of a village in the desert near the Plegia/Ferox border. Occasionally, West-Khans claimed that this town and the border sands surrounding it were actually Feroxi territory and waged minor wars about it. Fortunately, that hadn't happened in decades.

Lissa landed near the house and directed her pegasus into the stall around the back of the house, next to another stall holding a ornery looking Fell pegasus. Lissa had no sooner closed the stall door than her pegasus chomped at the black one, who growled back. “Play nice, you two,” warned Lissa. The pegasi swiftly toned back their aggression, but it seemed to Frederick that they still were glaring at each other. Horses were far easier to handle.

Frederick walked to the door of the house, and knocked smartly on the door, Lissa at his side. It soon opened, and a dark-skinned, silver-haired woman in a staggeringly low-cut dress leaned on the doorframe and stared back at Frederick. 

“Well, hello, lov—” she began silkily, but she stopped abruptly and stood up straight. “Oh, it's you. Emmeryn's in her room.”

“Uh, hi, Aversa,” said Lissa. Frederick merely nodded at the woman. She allowed them in and closed the door behind them as Lissa promptly dashed to a back room. Frederick, however, tarried in the foyer with Aversa.

While he completely agreed with the need to have the tragically addled former Exalt Emmeryn moved somewhere quiet to live out the rest of her days, Frederick had never been completely comfortable with trusting Aversa to take care of her. Yes, the former royal advisor had sworn that she had thrown off the dark ways of her past, and given her word and bond in loyalty to Chrom, but none of that meant she was the least bit trustworthy. This was the woman who had sicced the Deadlords on them, who had killed Phila and the elite of the Ylissean pegasus knights!

Grandmaster Deimos had come up with the arrangement. Aversa had the intention to live in her former home village, and Emmeryn needed a place to stay. Perfectly arranged, in Deimos's mind. The tactician had said that Aversa and Emmeryn were in similar situations, that they were both women attempting to regain forgotten pasts and who both deserved peaceful lives. Emmeryn had embraced the idea in a heartbeat. Aversa had been far less sure, but finally agreed to the arrangement. She had said it was her absolution. Hmpf. An _element_ of her absolution, perhaps.

“Who was it you were expecting?” asked Frederick.

Aversa rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I have a date tonight. I had been hoping to leave before you arrived.”

Frederick grunted in comprehension. “Some poor village boy you have lured in with your coquetry and your degenerate dress, no doubt.”

“You just know me _so_ well, don't you, Freddy?” asked Aversa, with a flip of her hair.

Frederick thought for a moment. He had to be vigilant against any danger to Emmeryn. “Does he know about Emmeryn?”

“He has been given the same bill of goods I sell everyone,” Aversa smiled deviously. “What, don't you trust me to keep your little secret?”

If asked, Aversa was to say that Emmeryn was a friend-of-a-friend injured in the war whom she was helping out. It was technically true, after all. Emmeryn's bangs were cut long to hide the Brand on her forehead, and Frederick knew that all should be fine, assuming a certain snake in their grass held her tongue. “Watch it, mage,” warned Frederick. 

Aversa adjusted a strap of her dress. “Hmm, yes, quite threatening, Freddy.”

They might have continued their respective antagonism, but Lissa happily led Emmeryn out of her room. Frederick's heart melted, as it always did when he saw Emmeryn. Here was the woman he had sworn to keep from harm, and whom he had failed to protect. Now, she was damaged but never deserving of pity or sorrow, a flower with a broken stem still alive and blooming.

Frederick shook his head. He was not a poetic man.

“Frederick...Hello...” breathed Emmeryn, smiling.

“Emmeryn,” replied Frederick, “It is divine to see you well.”

“Ugh, do gag me,” groaned Aversa.

“Hey, Aversa...are you gonna cook for us tonight?” asked Lissa.

“Actually, squirt,” replied Aversa, “It seems yon ex-Sacred Queen of the Exalted Bile insists I not wait on her hand and foot. Can't imagine why she'd give up a life of being attended to...But, then, nobody asked me.

“In any case, she has been learning how to cook since you last saw her, and she has a stew she was quite proud of which she absolutely insists on serving you.”

“I have...been working...hard...” said Emmeryn.

Frederick's brow wrinkled. “Are you sure you should be exerting yourself? Perhaps—”

Emmeryn stunned Frederick by interrupting. “I can...take care of myself...Frederick...I am not...an injured bird...”

“Right, of course,” stammered Frederick, “I beg your forgiveness, milady, I did not mean to imply you were helpless, nor relate you to any sort of invalid avian...”

Lissa was laughing at him now. Aversa was snickering. “It is fine...” said Emmeryn, but even she seemed to be holding back giggles. 

Fortunately for Frederick's pride, there then came a knock on the door.

Aversa rushed to the door and opened it halfway, blocking any sight out with her own body. In one hurried breath, she said, “Hey, babe, I'm ready, you're ready, thanks for the flower, let's go.”

“Aversa!” a voice tinkled from behind the door. “We're not in a hurry! My manager will hold our table for us.” The door opened, and a young man stepped in, saying, “Besides, I have something for Emm, too.”

He was a very petite young man, shorter than Aversa by quite a bit. He was wearing a light dancer's outfit, not completely unlike Olivia's, but with thick decorative straps of blue and sandy brown positioned from his belt to his shoulders, with several binding his chest and top. He took two steps across the floor, then stopped and said tensely, “Aversa...is there someone else here?”

Now Frederick saw the young man's eyes. They were a soft green, gentle, and a smoky opaque.

Aversa sighed, leaning on her front door to close it. A thick-stemmed flower was now in her hands. “Frederick, Lissa, this is Felice. The...guy I'm dating. Felice, Frederick and Lissa. They're Emm's sister and her husband.”

Felice's expression relaxed. “Oh! It's nice to meet you. I'm sorry, I didn't know there'd be anyone else here.” He offered a hand in Frederick's general direction and Frederick shook it. 

Felice turned and Lissa shook his hand too. “Nice to meet you!” Lissa chirped, “Emm's letters never mentioned you!”

Aversa had had her eyes closed, smelling the flower, but she opened them and her smile vanished. “Believe it or not,” said Aversa, “I do _not_ care to have my romantic life spread around the continent. I had been hoping we'd be gone by the time you showed up.”

Felice smiled. “Fair enough.” He paused, then said, “I'm sorry, Emm, am I ignoring you?”

“It's nice to see you...” said Emmeryn, lightly extending one of her hands.

Felice moved to her, hand extended, and took her hand. He then pressed a flower, similar to Aversa's, with petals of white and wine-red, into her hand. “There you go,” Felice said, then turned slightly. “I'd offer you two both one as well, but I'm afraid I only brought two. Next time, hopefully.”

Lissa nodded. Frederick said, “The offer is appreciated, though far from necessary, Felice.”

“You are...looking nice tonight...” said Emmeryn, placing the flower down.

“Your sister,” said Felice to Lissa, “is one of the most flattering women I have ever met.” Emmeryn blushed. “Actually, I've come straight from work. I am mildly exhausted and probably look a mess.”

“And we can head back there whenever it is you're done talking to _my roommate's family_ ,” commented Aversa.

Felice grinned. “I have learned not to keep my dear waiting.” He walked over to her. Aversa looped her arm around his and promptly led him out the door. “It was nice—” Aversa slammed the door behind them.

* * *

Emmeryn cooked more than capably, although Frederick had to intervene at one point to stop the pot from boiling over. She prepared a vegetable-and-chicken stew and then served it over a Plegian dish called couscous.

Lissa lasted all of one bite before she blurted out their big news. “So...I'm pregnant!” she announced.

It was difficult for Emmeryn to show any intense emotion. But she smiled softly and said, “That's...fantastic!” and Frederick knew she couldn't be happier.

The dinner conversation, slow as it would have seemed to any outsiders, was active and entertaining, although Lissa occasionally needed to prompt Frederick to say something more than just the bare facts. They talked about babies in general, the preparations already in place at Ylisstol, and the need for Emmeryn to come and visit her new nephew when the time came.

Eventually, as the meal was reduced to mere pools of broth on their plates, the conversation turned to names.

“Well, we're pretty sure it's a boy,” said Lissa, “but I so want a girl next time so I can name her after you.”

Emmeryn's cheeks turned a little pink. “Why...do that?” she asked.

“Well, duh! You're kinda my hero! You're a great woman, you were a great queen, and you're my big sister! Who else would I name my little girl after?” Lissa picked up Emmeryn's flower from the table and toyed with the petals. “I was thinking Emily, actually.”

Frederick looked at Emmeryn. She looked...uncomfortable. While Frederick had neither the magic to read minds nor the social expertise to figure out the reason behind her unease, he could recognize when a woman he was sworn to serve needed assistance. “But, as recent history has indicated, we should expect a boy,” he said, “What were you thinking of, Lissa?”

Lissa twirled the flower in her hand. “Well...I mean, Owain's the obvious choice, and I think the name comes from some important-type person in our family. Do you think it would feel a little weird to have two Owains running around?”

“In all fairness,” said Frederick, “as we haven't seen Owain in quite a while, there wouldn't be two of them running around.”

“He's coming back! He promised,” insisted Lissa, “Hey, Emm, do you remember Owain? Tall kid from the future with Frederick's hair?”

“I...believe so...” said Emmeryn, “He was...tiring.”

“Yeah, kinda,” Lissa laughed, “With the thee's and thou's and the 'down sword hand,' and all of that. I guess he took some getting used to.”

Frederick thought for a moment. “Do you think that might be something to fear, milady?” he asked.

“Don't call me that,” said Lissa through a mouthful of chicken, “And fear what?”

“If we should give the child resting in your womb the name 'Owain,' do you think we might be dooming him to a life of pathos and melodrama?”

“I never thought of that,” commented Lissa, biting her lip, “Do you really think it might be the name that causes it?”

“Perhaps names do have some bizarre effect on children or their environment,” said Frederick, “There are people who say the world is one of chaos, wherein small happenings can render enormous changes. While Owain is a noble man, you cannot disagree that he is most—”

The front door slammed open, revealing Aversa, her makeup smeared with tears and her dress inelegantly rumpled. She looked at all three of them, as if not expecting to see anyone, swore loudly, and stormed upstairs. The sound of another slamming door echoed from the second floor.

There was a moderately awkward silence. “Yeesh, what was the that about?” asked Lissa. 

“I...am concerned...” said Emmeryn, frowning.

“You wanna go and check on her?” asked Lissa, “We can wait.”

“No...” breathed Emmeryn. “She has...been like this...before. She does not...want me...to see her like this...if I try to talk...she tells me to go away...”

“This has happened before?” Frederick asked.

“Yes...Aversa gets...very sad sometimes...” Emmeryn clasped her hands together in trepidation. “But she has...it never...Felice...” She drifted off, her words turning only to barely intelligible moans. This occasionally happened if she got confused or had trouble with what she wanted to say.

“Do not strain yourself, milady,” said Frederick, “I'm sure Aversa will deal with her problems herself.”

Emmeryn nodded, but looked unsure.

The trio finished their supper in silence, broken only when Lissa dropped her spoon and raised a fist determinedly. “All right, it's decided,” she declared. “Frederick, go talk to Aversa.”

Frederick's brow furrowed. “Mil—Lissa! Who decided on this?”

“I did,” Lissa commented, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “C'mon! Emm said Aversa doesn't want to see her, and, um, I don't think Aversa...likes me very much?”

“You cannot have failed to notice that she decidedly dislikes me as well.”

“Well, she shows she likes you in...different ways, right? She snipes at you, and that's kinda like caring.” Lissa paused, but before Frederick could point out the patent absurdity of what she had said, she continued. “Plus, who have I always gone to when I had problems?”

“Emmeryn,” Frederick stated.

Lissa rolled her eyes. “ _Besides_ her.”

“Lady Maribelle.”

“Frederick...” Emmeryn cut in, “Please...you might...be able to help her...”

Frederick highly doubted it, but he could not refuse an order from his liege. “I can promise nothing. But I shall try to help. You have my word.”

“Thank you...” breathed Emmeryn, “Her room is...on the right.”

Frederick stood, pushed in his chair, and walked to the stairs. As he was climbing them, he heard Lissa chirp behind him, “So what's for dessert?” 

Frederick sighed.

Upon reaching the upstairs door, Frederick sighed. While he considered himself talented in a number of important theaters, casual conversation was never one of his fortes, much less...whatever he was being asked to do here. Psychotherapy? 

But...if he must, he must. Frederick knocked on Aversa's door.

“Go away, Emm,” came Aversa's voice, cracking even now, “I'm not— I'm fine, you don't need...I'm fine.”

“It's Frederick.”

There was a brief sound of movement and then the door to Aversa's room opened slightly. Her disbelieving face appeared in the opening. “Why are _you_ here?”

“Lissa and Emmeryn are concerned about you. As to why they sent me specifically, I am afraid your guess is as good as mine.”

Aversa glared at Frederick for a moment, then shrugged. “You know what? I might want a man's opinion, even if it is yours. Come in.”

Whatever Frederick was expecting, it wasn't this. “Milady!” he said, “Do you really think this appropriate?! Etiquette dictates never going into a woman's private chambers—”

“Get over yourself or I'm slamming the door in your face,” commanded Aversa.

Frederick thought about seizing the means of escape, but stopped himself. Aversa left the doorway and he entered after her, closing the door behind him.

While fairly large, Aversa's room was far sparer than Frederick expected. It could have been the bedroom of any woman in town. “Give me a moment to get these damned smears off my face, and then we can talk,” said Aversa, grabbing a rag and hand mirror from a desk.

Frederick watched as she dipped the rag into a tiny bowl of strong-smelling alcohol and rubbed it across her eyelids and cheeks. He had never seen her without full makeup on, and was surprised at how...human she looked past her tattoos and without any pretense. She even had an acne scar above one cheekbone. 

Eventually, Aversa placed the mirror and rag down. “Okay, what—” Aversa was interrupted by a thump against her door. “What was that?”

“ _That_ was the sound of my wife's ear colliding with your door,” said Frederick. “She is attempting to eavesdrop.”

“Charming,” said Aversa. “We'll go out to the balcony.” Again, Frederick followed Aversa, this time through the balcony door.

The balcony was really just part of the first floor's roof, but there were chairs and a railing for comfort and safety. The outside air was cool in the desert evening. 

Aversa turned towards Frederick and began to say something, but then turned away. “What the hell am I doing...?” she muttered.

Grumbling to himself, Frederick crossed his arms. Aversa was easily one of the most difficult women he had ever met. However, she was also a woman in distress, and thus he was honor-bound to assist. “Aversa,” he said, “May I assume this has something to do with your gentleman caller? Felice, correct?”

Aversa gritted her teeth and nodded.

Frederick had a sudden, awful thought. “He has not struck you, has he?” Frederick asked. “If he has raised a hand to you in any way, rest assured that I shall not hesitate to--”

“No!” yelled Aversa, “Gods! No, never! He'd never hurt anyone like that.”

“And yet he somehow has hurt you,” Frederick responded.

Aversa sighed, then grumpily paused for a second, “...He proposed.”

“I can assume this was not welcome?”

“No! I mean, yes—I mean...” Aversa leaned her back against the balcony's railing. “I couldn't take it. I ran off. I...I can't marry him. He doesn't know me. Not like he thinks he does.

“I mean, we've...” Aversa hesitated, “...been together for a while, but everything I do is an act! It's all a persona I put on because I'm not sure who I am beyond Validar's corruption. Felice deserves more than a woman who is made up on the spot. 

“I'm a murderer, a liar, and a foolish pawn besides, and I don't know if anything I remember before the age of twelve is true. He doesn't deserve me, not at all.”

Frederick regarded Aversa for a second. “I am an outsider to all this, Aversa,” he said, “but surely whether or not you are worth Master Felice's time or hand is up to him?”

“Godsdammit, _think_!” said Aversa, “I have spent _our whole relationship_ trying to convince Felice I'm...well...normal! But _normal_ people don't live their life at the end of a madman's leash! _Normal_ people don't have Grimmatical full-body tattoos! Normal people remember their gods-damned real name! Normal people don't fight gods they themselves helped unleash! Normal people don't hear the screams of a dozen women while trying to sleep, dying at my hand! Normal people don't spend days in bed because I'm so _broken_ there's no way anything I do during the day will fix me!”

“Aversa...” Frederick breathed. 

Aversa was crying again, but when Frederick spoke she straightened up, rubbed her eyes and said, “Besides, what were you talking about when I came in, anyway? Having to discuss the names of you children from the future isn't exactly a normal situation! You get a happy ending with your wife and kid—you got lucky, Freddy!” 

“You speak to me about my son?!” Frederick demanded. Aversa started, clearly puzzled. “I do not know how much contact you had with him,but know this: Owain is one of the most frustrating people I have known. While he can show grand diligence, he is devoted only to those things that interest him, and what interests him are mostly his own bizarre tangents and narratives. He could be a worthy warrior, but is held back by pure overconfidence and sheer flightiness. He is a flibbertigibbet, and to be brutally honest I sometimes wonder how a man such as Owain could be of my blood. The Goddess help me, I even fear to give our coming child the name, lest he rise to engage in the same level of overwrought dramatics Owain does!

“And yet!” Frederick continued, holding his steely gaze on Aversa, “if anything got in the way of Owain's happiness, whether it be a pebble, a man, or even his own absurd thoughts, I would not hesitate for an instant to take every step possible to remove that obstacle. For all of his many, many flaws, he deserves the best.”

Aversa opened her mouth to speak, but Frederick raised one finger and silenced her. “And the case is the same here. Aversa... _ **Milady**_...I do not trust you. I have neither forgiven nor forgotten your actions against my country and my lord during the war. I am not fully convinced of your personal turnaround and, had not Exalt Chrom and Deimos fully professed their faith in you, I would not for a moment trust you with Lady Emmeryn.

“However!” Frederick shouted, firmly cutting off any protest by Aversa, “know that nothing I have just said negates this fact: You are worthy of love. I am sorry that I am not a poetic man, and thus I cannot state it any more romantically.”

Aversa held one hand to her chest, her face in a pained frown. “But...” she started.

“If this Felice man truly loves you, and if he continues to love you when you explain yourself, you deserve it. Even if he doesn't...” Frederick paused. He didn't want to admit this. “I am positive Emmeryn loves you, if not in the same way. You are deserving of that love too.” Frederick straightened. “In any case, I am sure you have noticed that Felice himself is not exactly, as you call it, 'normal.'”

Aversa grimaced. “You don't know the half of it, Freddy,” she commented. “Gods, I'm a piece of shit. He probably thinks this is all his fault.”

“If he is the kind of man—” Frederick started.

“Don't start in on forgiveness, Frederick!” interrupted Aversa. “I know you haven't forgiven me, so why the Hell should he? What the hell makes you think I can just cast a spell in my godsdamn brain and make myself believe I deserve to be loved?”

“I do not think any such thing,” replied Frederick. “Like anything, mental soundness takes time. It takes practice and effort. I suggest physical workouts, myself, but even I must admit that my methods are not for everyone. But I feel you owe it to yourself and those who care about you to try to believe, to want to be the kind of person you feel deserves to be loved.”

“I don't know if I can, Frederick,” Aversa said. She was clearly on the verge of crying again.

“I can—” Frederick started.

“No, no. You've done enough. Thanks--” Aversa's voice broke. “Thanks for trying. I'm...I'll stay out here for a bit. Tell Emmeryn I'll be fine. Go back to dinner.”

“Talk to Emmeryn,” said Frederick firmly. “She wants to help, and cannot if you do not let her.” He hesitated. This would not be easy. “And...I am positive she would give you permission to tell the truth...about everything.” Aversa didn't respond.

This was all he could do. “By your leave,” he said, and turned to exit the balcony.

As Frederick was opening the door into the house, he looked back at Aversa. She had produced the thick-stemmed flower from somewhere, and was holding it tightly to her heart as she quietly sobbed.


End file.
